‘Ho my!’ exclaimed he with the pipe. ‘Well, just behave yourself, or you’ll feel the weight of my boot.’
‘That’s Napper,’ said Hodson to Jack. ‘Don’t take any notice of him.’
He took Jack to a bed which he said would be his, and proceeded to show him how to put down and make it with the straw-filled tick and the coarse sheets and blankets. Jack helped to roll and strap it up again just as a trumpet sounded outside.
‘There goes mess,’ cried Bandsman Napper. ‘Now, Brown, shin off and get the grub;’ and a young trumpeter, picking up a big tin, left the room.
The table required little laying, the boys producing from the shelves over their beds chunks of bread, in which knives and forks were stuck, plates and basins like pudding-basins were laid on the table, and the bandsman who had been talking to Napper, with a jaunty ‘Ta-ta, boys!’ went off to his own room.
The trumpeter who had departed for the dinners presently returned, and in the mess-tin was a great piece of meat and a number of baked potatoes swimming in the fat beneath; and a second youngster followed with a great tin of cabbage. All these were placed on the table.
The plates were passed up, and Napper, who was in charge of the room, commenced to carve the meat. Carving, with him, simply consisted of first trimming off the brown, well-done portions and some crisp fat for himself, then cutting the remainder into seven ugly chunks, one of which he dumped on each plate. Hodson added some potatoes, and each helped himself to cabbage; then without any more ado all fell to.
Hodson, looking up, saw Jack had nothing on the plate in front of him. ‘I say, Napper,’ he said, ‘Blair’s got no grub.’
‘What’s that got to do with me?’ answered Napper with his mouth full.
‘He’s in the mess, you know.’